


There Is No Logic When  It Comes To Attraction

by strawberrykait



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Explicit Language, F/M, Humor, Love Potion/Spell, Mild Sexual Content, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrykait/pseuds/strawberrykait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione’s attempts to win Ron’s attention backfire in a most unexpected way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Is No Logic When  It Comes To Attraction

Making much more noise than one sneaking about in her Professor’s classroom and locked stores ought to make, Hermione Granger slammed around until she had found all of the ingredients needed. To say she was irritated would be an understatement. If it weren’t for that trollop Lavender Brown, she wouldn’t be here now, skulking around in the dark. At least Slughorn would be more forgiving if he caught her. If Snape had remained as Potions Master rather than finally obtaining the cursed D.A.D.A. position, Hermione would never have even considered breaking curfew and brewing into the wee hours.

Hermione huffed, her breath slightly lifting the long, straggly strands of hair away that had fallen into her face. “Lavender Brown…”

Honestly, what did Lavender Brown have that Hermione didn’t? Granted, her roommate was pretty, in a horsey way, with her long blonde curls that always looked just right. And the other girl did make herself up every day, even though Hermione thought she wore entirely too much of the stuff, coming across as a tramp. 

She caught her reflection in the glass cabinet door and stared for a long moment. Is that what boys found attractive, then? She examined her eyes, her cheeks. Hermione thought she was average looking and girlishly pretty enough, but apparently, she was wrong. Lavender Brown shined and shimmered; her eyes were bright and her lips were pink. Hermione’s lips were barely a shade darker than her skin and all she ever used was a lip balm to keep them from chapping. 

She stepped away from her cauldron to look closer. Whenever she was puzzled, she bit and picked at her lips, peeling the skin away in small pieces until they were red or almost bleeding. She couldn’t help it; it was a nervous tic. As she felt the ridges of hardened skin crusting on her lower lip, she eyed her stubby fingers. Honestly, she’d tried to stop biting her nails, and she was much better this year than last, but still they were unattractive little nubs. Lavender had rather long nails, so long, in fact, she often protested assignments that might damage them, or so Hermione heard her whine on a regular basis. 

Hermione rolled her eyes at the memory of her nascent voice. How could Ron find her so attractive? Looking once more into the mirror, she couldn’t help but acknowledge something else Lavender had over her. Cautiously, Hermione touched her breasts, noting their smallness. Her mother had said she was a late bloomer, but Hermione knew her mother had been bigger at fourteen than she was two years over. She sighed.

Great green bubbles erupted from the boiling cauldron she had left behind, breaking her self-pitying reflections. “Oh!” Hermione scurried back to her potion, hoping she wouldn’t have to start again. Already she had been at it for nearly two hours and it was getting quite late. Despite her status as a Prefect, to be caught out of bed by Filch would be most damaging, let alone caught brewing this potion. 

With a half dozen counterclockwise stirs, followed by two and a half the other way around, the potion returned to a simmer and she relaxed a bit. She pushed her hair off her face, the sweat helping to keep it back, and checked her instructions for the next step. Just as she was repeating the next ingredient under her breath and turning for the stores, the Potions lab door swung open.

“Well, well, what have we here?”

Her heart lodged high up in her throat, disabling her from making any noise other than a startled moan. Her eyes had squeezed shut out of fear and surprise, but flew open wide at the voice. “Malfoy?!” Relief came first but was quickly replaced with irritation. “Get out of here, ferret, before I report you for breaking curfew!”

He scoffed. “You’re one to talk. Just what exactly do you think you’re doing down in the dungeons, _Granger_?”

“I don’t see how that is any concern of yours,” she haughtily replied while attempting to block his view of the cauldron. It was pointless, because they could both obviously hear it bubbling away. Still, she persisted. When his head tilted left, her body went as well, and then the opposite way, until before long they were performing a rather awkward game. 

Malfoy’s almost preternatural Seeker skills finally managed to overtake her though, and with a loud bark of laughter, the cat was out of the bag. “I’m willing to wager that Professor Snape would be _very_ interested -”

“This is no longer his classroom,” she argued, her nose automatically lifting in challenge. Since he had seen what she was doing, there was no need to deny it. In quick succession, a mixture of fabricated stories and half-truths ran through her mind, waiting until Malfoy’s floppity mouth opened again. “Professor Slughorn gave me express permission -”

“Now really I am shocked – to hear Goody-Goody Granger actually _lying_?”

Her face flushed and she hoped he mistook it for the effect of the steam rising up into her face rather than guess he’d hit upon the truth. One quick glance at his smug, pointy face proved her wrong, however. She had spent hours and hours working on this potion, investigating it, collecting the ingredients, plus the time here in the cold, previously, gloriously empty lab. Two choices lay before her: concede to the ferret and give up the potion, quite possibly for good, and face the consequences, or continue with the façade just a short while longer and hope that she could complete her task and get rid of him before it was ruined.

She wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing.

He watched her for a long moment, waiting expectantly for her to do something, say something, and at last she did, but it was far from what he could have predicted. Granger walked straight up to him, her large brown eyes glaring up at him with such defiance, and said in a hushed voice, “Piss off,” and then spun back around to her cauldron. Draco gave into the utter shock of the moment. Had it been Potter, or Weasley – if it had even been one of his _friends_ \- he would have hexed the bastard where he stood. But it was Granger, and somehow he’d never been able to fight her.

That didn’t mean he was going to let her go about whatever secretive business she had going, oh no. He weighed his options once more – to turn her in, and quite possibly risk punishment himself, or he could find a way to make her suffer for his amusement. This was the potions lab, after all. Draco smirked, but said nothing in response.

From the corner of her eye, she watched as he finally moved from his spot. This was it. Hermione was unaware that she was actually holding her breath until the astonishment of seeing him pull up a stool across from her cauldron forced it out through her gaping mouth. Things had just gone from bad to worse.

“What do you have brewing in the pot?” He asked in an almost sing-song tone. Hermione really didn’t like where they seemed to be headed, but she wasn’t exactly spoiled for choices. Having decided on just what to tell him, she began her monologue and made certain that he would find it so boring, he’d wished he’d never barged in.

“Well, if you _must_ know,” she began, cutting her eyes back and forth between the relaxed Slytherin and her hand written instructions, “I’m … working on … extra credit … err, revisions… for my N.E.W.T.s.” She couldn’t look at him. She knew that he could see right through her and simply could not look at him. 

“Uh huh,” he said in a clipped tone. He could tell she was lying – any Hufflepuff could – and a small part of him was disappointed in her pathetic efforts, but he didn’t call her out on it. Instead, he let her continue explaining herself feebly about how she was perfectly within her rights to work this late into the night, that Slughorn was absolutely aware of her activities, and that his intrusive presence here was… _blah blah blah…_ Granger’s voice was as good as a sleeping draught, he thought. Malfoy’s eyes lit up mischievously. Down the table from her mysterious cauldron was a collection of ingredients. From his seat he could easily identify rat spleens, cinnamon, dragon’s blood, and essence of Dittany, and there was also another jar that looked to be filled with ogre vomit. 

Whatever she was brewing was beginning to smell quite delicious, like worn leather and gardenias, and something else rather musty. He very well couldn’t let her get full marks, could he? With her back turned towards him, Malfoy stretched out his hand for the first bottle within reach, two of the legs of his stool lifting off the stone floor completely. His stool rocked back onto all four legs as he quickly dumped the contents in and charmed the cauldron to stir itself. The once thin green liquid instantly darkened and thickened, turning a deep violet. A puff of smoke erupted and it smelled quite familiar, yet not unpleasant, for whatever reason. 

She turned back in time to see Malfoy eyeing her cauldron, the beginnings of a smile on his face. One glance in and her stomach turned. Hermione quietly asked, “What did you do?”

His look of disbelieving innocence only lasted a second before the laboratory exploded. 

There was a ringing in her ears that she highly doubted she would ever be rid of, and the smoke that surrounded her was sulfurous and thick. Catching her breath was near impossible, but still she desperately tried. Hermione sat up on her knees; her hands were scraped and bleeding from the shards of glass that burst in the cauldron explosion. _Oh, no…the potion…_

As she got to her feet, she heard Malfoy sputtering nearby. His white-blond hair was visible before the rest of him, and only in patches. _Good,_ she thought, _I hope he lost all of his greasy hair for what he’s done_. Hermione was always careful, meticulously so, in fact. He _had_ to be fully responsible for ruining her special potion. All her hard work … gone in a purple puff.

“What did you _do_?” 

If he hadn’t been expecting to see her through the smoke, he would have jumped with fright at the sight of Granger. Her normally bushy hair seemed to have expanded, imitating a furry cloud that hovered above her shoulders. Laughter choked him as it escaped his chest. She was completely soaked in violet goop. Oh, how he wished Crabbe and Goyle were here to witness this. Malfoy gave into the laughter. The act was rather foreign and pleasant all the same. It had been so long since anything amused him, long before last summer, he realized. _At least Granger was good for a laugh_ , he thought, still chuckling until he reached up to wipe his face and noted he was also covered in the goop.

“Oh, shit! You’re going to pay for this, Granger! Do you know what this robe is made of?”

“What? Are you insane? _You’re_ the one who destroyed my potion – what exactly did you do, Malfoy?!” The smoke was beginning to dissipate and he could see that her wand was aimed directly at him. He flung the goop from his left hand and reached for his wand in turn, but lost his footing. There was a moment before he fell in which he flailed about like a first year on ice. Malfoy landed hard on his bum and slipped one more time, his head thudding against the table. 

This high-pitched whine filled the lab, like an alarm going off in spurts. Purple slime oozed off the table onto his head. If ever he was capable of murder, this was it. The whining grew stronger and lower and he realized when Granger walked around the table that stood between them that the terrible noise was coming from her. “Honestly, Granger, you already have so many marks against you, why add cackling like a witch to your list of attributes?”

Her laughter ceased immediately. He wasn’t looking directly at her; was too busy flinging chunks of ogre shit out of his eyes and mouth, but he saw her wilt a little. Within his chest, he felt a small ache and wondered what he’d damaged in the fall.  
Hermione stood there staring down at the slimy Slytherin, thinking his outside façade finally matched what slithered within; all the while, her spirit waned. How was it possible for someone like Malfoy, of all people, to make her feel even worse? None of it was fair. A deep breath in and let out again, she accepted the explosion for what it was: a sign that all of this was absolutely ridiculous and she shouldn’t waste any more of her time. 

She turned around very carefully, not wanting to join Malfoy sprawled on the floor. Seeing him as such was almost worth the rest of the humiliation. Almost. Hermione smirked. _Well, this mess won’t clean its self up any time soon, but first…_

“Scourgify,” she said, her wand aimed directly towards her head. There was no crisp breeze, no fresh scent, no immediate sense of being clean. Nothing. Puzzled, Hermione tried again, louder this time, but still the charm failed. Sprawled on the floor behind her, Malfoy began to applaud her failure. Instinctively she aimed her wand his way and the bully paused in his mockery. “Scourgify!”

Malfoy flung both hands up to cover his face, tensing in anticipation. One squinty grey eye peeked out from between his fingers when nothing happened. In quick succession, he checked that all of his body parts were as they should be, excepting the putrid purple tint he was currently sporting, and relaxed marginally. Granger was astonished, and it took him a few seconds to come to the same conclusion as she had.

_Oh, my God, my wand’s broken…_

“Just how inept are you?” 

She ignored him, entirely focused on forcing the charm to work. Her heart was racing madly. Hermione shut her eyes tightly in concentration and tried again unsuccessfully to clean any of the spilled potion. Malfoy remained sitting on the stone floor and she could hear his attempts to clean himself. On his first try, she waited. She was of two minds, one hoping that he would be successful and they could get cleaned up, and one hoping that his wand wouldn’t work either. 

He had just as little luck as she had had. Next, she tried to Vanish the puddles away, but again failed. Malfoy was not-so-quietly cursing both her and her mess as he struggled to stand. Her reflection in the cabinet caught her attention again and without a second thought, she flung the first spell that came to mind. “Reducto!”

A thousands shards flew across the room and only a swift _Protego_ from beneath her kept Hermione from shredding into bloody strips of meat. 

“Have you lost your bleeding mind?! You could have killed us,” he yelled. Malfoy reached out to her wand and she jerked back so suddenly that she slipped in the puddle of goo. He didn’t make a move to save her that time, though. He continued to cast spell after spell, but everything that was directed at either themselves or the goop failed each time. His anger was palpable. “I certainly hope you’re satisfied.”

Hermione seethed. “You’re not even supposed to be here, Malfoy! If you hadn’t barged in here – if you hadn’t mucked with my potion – none of this would be happening now!”

“Wrong, Granger! _You’re_ the one meddling with magic beyond your control! _You’re_ the one who doesn’t belong here!”

She gasped, her mouth forming a wide ‘o’ in shock, then she recovered with a growl, her fingers curling before her face as she stomped towards him. “You are such a racist pig! A sanctimonious, asinine -”

“Me? You’re calling _me_ sanctimonious! Oh, that’s rich! Why don’t you remove the wand from up your arse -” Draco’s voice cut off sharply, avoiding her jabbing wand. He scurried around the table, keeping Granger physically far away. Unfortunately, she was still armed. She threw spells at him left and right, forcing him to dodge the best he could without falling down again. Between her screeched curses, she chased him. His own anger grew with every second until he worried he would have to draw his wand. Even though technically Granger might be a Muggle-born, but it was uncouth to attack a girl, no matter her heritage. Surely she would exhaust herself soon, right?

Many times, she slipped in the thick globules and had to cling to the table to retain her balance. Soon she was out of breath. Hermione wasn’t as active as she ought to be, she realized. The goop was beginning to dry on her hands and face, the sweat from her hairline rewetting it. Her hair stuck in the muck and made her feel absolutely disgusting. With a heavy sigh, she turned away from the ferret. All she was accomplishing was exhausting herself when actually she ought to determine how to clean all this up. _If magic won’t cut it…_

Hermione crossed the lab, heading directly to the nearest girls’ bathroom to clean herself up properly before tackling the lab. Considering how far and wide the cauldron exploded, cleaning up the potions lab before morning classes resumed would take all night, for sure. Her heart sank, not at just the wasted night, but the wasted opportunity she’d had her heart set on. Malfoy sighed along with her and she eyed him suspiciously. Really, she was beyond ready to be rid of him. He sneered at her in turn and she rolled her eyes, continuing out the door. A series of slips and squeaks followed close behind. Malfoy was following her rather closely. She did a double take, and growled, “Leave me alone, Malfoy! I don’t feel like looking at you ever again!”

“Gladly,” he sneered. She waited for him to walk the other way down the corridor, back towards the Slytherin common room. He spun on his heel, but held his ground. As she watched her confusion grew. What was he up to now? She shook her head and sighed, impatiently waiting for him to walk away. 

A few awkward seconds passed before he finally managed a step. To his great surprise and utter annoyance, she was following him. “I don’t need an escort, Granger; I know exactly where to go.” He glanced over his shoulder when she didn’t respond and saw that her upper body was leaning back in an impossible angle while her legs held stick-straight in front of her, both feet sliding her across the floor. Draco froze, and then laughed at her thrashing about, her arms waving like a lunatic, desperate to right herself before she crashed backwards.

For some odd reason, she felt like laughing. It bubbled out of her before she could control it, and she tried to disguise it as a coughing fit, during which their eyes met briefly and she could see he was practically smiling at her. Hermione’s eyes began to water and she wiped them clear furiously. Carefully glancing his way again, she saw his blank expression once more. _So odd._ She quietly asked, “What have you done to us?”

For nearly five full minutes, the pair argued again about whom exactly was to blame in between determining the extent of their predicament. It was Hermione who realized first that they were connected, for lack of a better word, and that it had to be a side effect from whatever he’d done to her potion. 

Amidst their bickering and blaming, she also realized that she knew almost exactly what he was going to say a split second before he yelled it. This worried her more than anything else, and she tried to keep it to herself. Of course, the connection worked both ways, and the moment she tried to pull the notion from her mind, he caught on and resumed screaming at her for the invasion. By this time they were nearly completely caked in the violet substance, with cracks forming around their mouths and eyes, however it wasn’t flaking off as she anticipated, but turning more like gum, soft and mushing and exceptionally uncomfortable.

Malfoy growled at her, wanting desperately to hit her for what she’d done to him. She gave him an incredulous look that only further irritated him. _That’s it!_ He tried to walk beyond the bubble, and they both were instantly sick. Saliva filled her mouth and she knew what would come next, and she mentally begged him to come back. He stumbled backwards a step or two, hunched over and choking. She swallowed down her bile and prayed he didn’t try that again.

“We can’t spend any more time arguing about this now,” she sighed after finally recovering. There was no need to glance his way to know he was also feeling better yet was still very angry. “Let’s go to the Prefects’ bathroom and get cleaned up, and then we -”

“I think the hospital is a better solution than _bathing_ together,” he spoke over her. She blushed furiously at the image that popped into his mind and flew across into her own. Embarrassed, she stepped up and smacked his shoulder, hurting herself equally. 

“Ow!”

“Damnit!”

Malfoy’s bulging eyes had her almost laughing again, but she expelled the breath on a heavy, resigned sigh instead. “If we go to Madam Pomfrey, I’ll tell her the blame is entirely yours, and -”

“Hold up there, Granger!”

“- you’ll have to admit just what exactly you did to my potion.”

“A potion you weren’t supposed to be making after hours.”

“Not true -”

“You can’t hide it from me, Granger, remember?” He tapped his forehead and she blanched. Apparently he knew the truth: that she had been devising an attraction potion to sneak to Ron and end the whole Lavender debacle. He knew everything, about what she was doing, how she was feeling, and now would use it against her. Hermione burned with embarrassment. 

Malfoy stood there watching her for an uncomfortable moment, not catching her eyes as she waited for his mockery to continue. Deep inside, he felt wretched and ashamed, something not entirely foreign to him of late. But at least this was something he had some control over. Shoving his hand up through his hair and feeling the sticky, goopy mess made up his mind. He stepped past her, avoiding her eyes, and walked towards the stairs. “Come on then. Standing around here is only going to bring out that bastard Filch. Let’s get cleaned up.”

Soon she passed him on the stairs, ignoring his huff. Malfoy followed close behind. Now and then, she could almost make out the words he muttered under his breath: “damned nuisance”, “bitch”, and something about gardenias. Hermione worried that the goop had affected what brain cells he had left, and that worried her for her _own_ brain cells, and so her pace increased. 

Draco stayed with her easily enough, but overtook her once more on the third floor. _Girls and their short, stubby legs._ When she paused to inspect her legs, hitching her robe up slightly, he laughed. She scowled and tried to catch up. As quietly as possible, considering the smacking noises of purple goop on the soles of their shoes, they climbed up and up. Occasionally Malfoy would move just beyond the barrier that kept them together and would either trip Hermione or cause her to hiss out her annoyance. The snoring portraits aligning the walls would snort and snuffle, and unfortunately a few awoke, fussing at them to douse their wands and return to bed. She was compelled to apologize on both their behalves, especially since all Malfoy did in response was glare.

His face was tight and dry at this point, but the goo on his robes reminded him of warm gelatin, viscous and nauseating. Appalled, Draco swiped his left hand across his chest, scooping up a great handful of it, and flung it on the wall.

“Are you mad? Someone’s going to see that!”

Draco paused mid-step to look down at her with wide, incredulous eyes. “Do you honestly think one splatter of purple shit on the wall will draw more attention than the _trail_ you’ve made?” Granger looked back in horror, as though the evidence of her mess was something he had deliberately left behind them.

“That’s not my mess,” she declared.

Draco growled, “You’ve got to be joking!”

“You’re equally responsible, if not more so -”

“It’s not _my_ cracked experiment I’m wearing, is it?” He yelled. They continued to argue in subdued voices up to the fifth floor corridor, and it wasn’t until they had passed the statue of Boris the Bewildered that they agreed to not speak to each other anymore. All either wanted to do was get cleaned up and never speak of this night ever again.

The Prefects’ bathroom was opulent, to say the least, with a humungous bath taking up the majority of the room. Three stained glass windows surrounded the pool, a beautiful yet temperamental mermaid featured in the center, who eyed the pair warily when they closed the door behind them. Draco was rather familiar with this bathroom, considering it a secondary perk to being a Prefect (the primary, of course, being able to dock House Points), but it had been some time since he’d been here, and he couldn’t recall any time he’d not been alone. He turned to look at the girl he’d brought with him, who was practically marching towards the linen cupboard. He watched as she yanked the doors open and dug around for some clean towels and robes. He leered. “Are you going to give a little show, then?” 

Granger shot him such a loathsome scowl he couldn’t help but laugh. She stared at him, blinking once or twice, before resuming her task and walking away from him. She stopped, suddenly, and he could hear her thoughts as though they were his own, faint whispers of worry running through his mind. “Didn’t think this part through, did you? How are we going to clean ourselves up and not see each other’s … private bits, hm?”

Granger harrumphed and said, “Really, Malfoy, I didn’t think you were such a pervert as to peep at a naked _Mudblood_.” He blanched and saw his reaction reflected back at him through her eyes. His cheeks grew hot and he broke the connection between them, unwilling to face her ridicule, whether deserved or not. “Malfoy…?”

“Shut up, Granger, and give me that,” he strode to her and snatched a robe from her limp hand, and then turned away. He could feel her watching him still, could feel her questioning stare, and it made him even more irritable. Behind him, she tsked, returned to the cupboard for another robe, and then stepped further into the recesses of the bathroom. She couldn’t go very far, but she was out of his direct sight now, still within range. Draco dropped the clean robe after a moment and began loosening his tie, creating a pile of filthy clothes for the House Elves to gather and clean, if they could. He grew angrier with each layer removed: angry at Granger for creating such a mess, at his dumb luck to have seen the flickering candle light under the Potions lab door, and especially for his damned curiosity that lead him straight into this bloody mess. 

At least she had been alone and not accompanied by her idiotic companions. It could have been much worse, had they been there. Draco cringed at the idea of having to experience the thoughts and feelings of either Potter or Weasley. Then again, he reasoned, would there really be that much to have to endure from either of them? He smiled and released his breath. Across from him, hidden in the shadows, Granger also laughed a little, seemingly apropos, and his humor left as quickly as it came. He stared in her direction without seeing her.

What did it matter if she were actually working on extra credit, or revisions, or whatever it was she claimed to be doing down in the dungeons at that hour, or even if she was, in fact, lying about it all? It was none of his business. _She_ was none of his business. Nothing would change that. No matter what he did, however many rules he broke, or names he called her, no matter how many times he tried to warn her whenever something was amiss, Hermione _fucking_ Granger was beyond his reach and he was less than her concern. 

He stood in his shorts and realized that the purple mess had touched very little of his body, saving his hands, face, and hair, so he dressed in the white terrycloth robe and walked towards the bank of sinks to wash up. He could hear her still struggling with her uniform. Leaning a bit to the right, he could see her in the shadows. 

Granger’s back was toward him and bare except for the straps of her white bra. His heart sped up, seeing her so naked. The hot water ran through the basin and straight down the drain while steam rose to fog up the mirror. Draco felt quite warm and clammy, but it had little to do with the steam. 

Gingerly, Granger stepped out of her skirt, exposing thin, pink panties and a full bottom. Draco stepped further right and forward. He held onto the column before him, needing to hide from her still, but unable to look away. She toed off her sneakers and then stood awkwardly on one leg at a time to remove her socks. Granger had folded her dirty robes neatly into a pile on the window ledge. Draco felt his grip on the column slip slightly from his sweaty palm as she wiped her hands across her thighs and then folded her fists onto her hips, looking down at the mess. When she bent over to add her socks to the pile, the left edge of her panties up rose slightly, exposing the edge of her bum. Draco swallowed.

Hermione felt like she was being watched.

Slowly she looked to either side before turning enough to see him spying on her. “Malfoy!” She folded into herself, reaching for the white robe she’d left on the sill. By the time she had it around her properly, he was gone. _Thankfully. What was he staring at?_ Hermione strained her ears, still unfamiliar with the process of tuning into his thoughts, as it were. She expected to hear his mockery of her. Instead, she heard the strangest thing.

_Woollongong Shimmy...zigzag it, throw off Davies...Vaisey and Warrington are shite at Parkin's Pincer. Ask Snape for additional pitch time to work on it...Potter can't Wronski..._

_Wronski_ she remembered from Harry and Ron’s continual Quidditch discussions, which she often tried to drone out. Hermione was awfully confused. Draco Malfoy thought of _Quidditch_ when he saw her practically naked?

“So odd, and very flattering,” she muttered. She looked down to make sure she was covered up, quite perplexed as to why Draco Malfoy even would try to take a peep at her like that. According to him, she was a filthy Mudblood, undeserving of magical abilities. Right? She hadn’t really considered it before, considered Malfoy in any way other than bullying prat, that is. He was, however, just a boy, and boys always want to _look_. She decided it must just have been simple curiosity and hormones that made him do it. She knew it had nothing to do with _her_ ; just the fact she was a half-naked girl. Hermione knew she was far from pretty enough for that kind of attention. 

Hermione felt utterly drained and, without thinking, tried to run her hand through her hair and instead lost her hand in the sticky gunk that covered her. Growling and yanking roughly, she made her way to the sinks to use the mirrors to free herself. 

She walked around Malfoy, who seemed to be almost finished, drying his hair with one of the towels she’d found. _Good, maybe that means he’ll leave soon._ She gasped when she met her ridiculous reflection. Her right elbow was akimbo from her head, and her normally bushy hair looked as though a giant candle had been melted over it, flattening it against her head and threading it with purple rivers. _This is the worst night of my life_. Several tugs and gasps later, she was just as stuck as when she began and decided to use the shampoo to free herself and finally put an end to this night. Using only her left hand, she managed to turn the water on and fill the basin, but she had forgotten to grab any shampoo.

“Here,” Draco said, offering her a bottle. She turned half around to accept it from her right, and proceeded to struggle with opening the bottle. She seemed at a loss, and without thinking, Draco moved around her and took it back. “Wait a moment.” 

He returned to his pile, retrieved his wand, and then Transfigured a ladder-back chair, which he dragged towards his sink, facing outwards. “Have a seat,” he offered quietly. She eyed him suspiciously for a second or two before complying. Her cheeks were burning from the absurd position she was in, but she hoped he would be nice and quiet and just work her right hand free so that she could finish the job herself and he could finally leave her in peace.

Inspecting the violet rat’s nest in which she had lost her hand, Malfoy leaned down towards her face, hovering just barely above her, and her heart sped up in her chest. His eyes were so pale and silvery that they seemed to glow in the dim light. She watched them dance back and forth as he frowned slightly in concentration. Without warning, his eyes met hers and he stared at her with such seriousness that she felt exposed. She blinked, breaking the connection, only to land on his mouth, which was full and still. 

In that moment, she wondered what it would be like to lift up enough to press her mouth to his. Suddenly he pulled back and the moment was lost. To say she was shocked at her own ideas would be an understatement. _Oh, do hurry,_ she silently begged. Then she worried about the side effect of the potion explosion. No, he couldn’t have heard her thoughts, or else he would have scurried away in horror. 

Wouldn’t he? 

Her unreasonable side piped up that he _had_ been staring at her as she undressed. What if he wasn’t exactly opposed to … oh, what was she thinking? Had she lost her mind completely? Did she really want to kiss Draco Malfoy, sworn nemesis of her best friends and House, Slytherin bully and all-around rascal? _Oh, Merlin, what have I gotten into now?_

Hermione’s long, curly hair absorbed the warm water quickly, helping to secure her to the sink. She was slunk down low in the chair, almost uncomfortably, but Malfoy’s closeness distracted her from any discomfort. He stood beside her and poured the relatively cool shampoo onto the spot where her hand was immovable and began to massage the mess. His hands moved slowly, gently, soothingly working their way into the knots and gunk, occasionally cupping tepid water from the basin below to rinse before lathering the area again. Hermione closed her eyes and relaxed. She could feel his thumb rub circles into the palm of her hand, the nail pleasantly scratching the skin now and then.

Soon, her hand was free and flopped bonelessly down beside her chair, flinging a rainbow of suds in its wake. She could care less because Malfoy continued to wash her hair, and she found she really didn’t mind in the least. His fingertips pressed against her scalp in small circles before working their way across her head. He gathered the hair near the roots and began lightly lathering it, working his way down through the inches, folding it in on itself and squeezing the water out of the tip ends. 

When his hands vanished, she considered protesting. Her eyes flew open along with her mouth, but no sound came out as she watched him remove the white terrycloth robe and drop it to the floor before returning to her. 

Quidditch had been very good to him, it seemed. His pale body was toned, the muscles in his arms defined, and in the dim candle light she could make out a thin, blond trail leading down into his dark green shorts. The fact that Draco Malfoy was standing proudly before her in his shorts was no longer weird, but rather tempting. She found herself fixated on his boxer shorts, the wonderful contrast of his skin against the dark color. 

Their eyes met and held for a long moment but neither spoke. As he began to rinse the curls out, her eyes fell shut again, and she might have moaned a little. Hermione’s body was lethargic, yet low in her belly, tenseness grew, causing her toes to clench against the stone floor at the base of the chair legs. 

It felt wonderful to have somebody wash her hair like this. Malfoy’s long fingers combed carefully through her locks. Mentally she asked him to condition her hair as well, hoping to prolong the experience and not caring a whit if he could sense the delicious feelings he was causing in her entire body. Instead he drained the sink, wrapped a towel around her long hair haphazardly, and helped her to sit up properly. Instinctively, she reached to secure the towel around her head. After what had just happened, something so intimate and unfamiliar, Hermione was at a loss for what to say or do next. She couldn’t even look up at him, afraid that whatever this delicate situation was would burst like a soap bubble if she even opened her mouth to say thank you, or something equally banal. Like, _Why don’t you kiss me?_

Draco cleared his throat and turned away. He couldn’t explain what had come over him; he’d only wanted to help her out, which was completely out of character for enemies such as they were. If only they weren’t. He frowned, feeling foolish and rash, and decided it was high time he left her behind. He had taken three or four steps towards the door when she whispered his name. His eyes clenched shut and he begged his feet to keep moving, for her to keep quiet and let him walk away. Instead he heard her bare feet gently slap against the stone floor towards him. He knew she was standing directly behind him, could almost feel her touching him. He could hear her breathing, which matched his own: quick, warm pants of breath. If he didn’t leave now, there’d be no turning back, no returning to the status quo of hatred. 

Before she could reach out and actually touch him, he spun around. Draco wanted to laugh at her ridiculous appearance. She looked like a terry cloth monster, draped literally from head to calves in white. But it was her lovely innocent brown eyes that silenced him, and her slightly parted lips that captivated him. As he watched, she folded her lower lip in, and he lost what control he had. Grabbing her arms, Draco bent down and kissed Granger.

Their teeth clacked together on impact and she giggled. His lips stretched across in a smile against hers and she knew he found it funny as well. They did better on the second attempt. Hermione wasn’t the most experienced girl at Hogwarts, especially when she compared herself to her dorm mates. But she had been kissed before, by Victor, on a few occasions, and once by a boy she met during last summer. But those kisses were nothing like this. There was no telling if it was directly a result of the explosion or if Malfoy was simply a better kisser. All she knew was that kissing him like this was the best she could remember ever feeling and nothing could ever make her stop.

Of course, she was wrong.

Hermione thought about the consequences of this … whatever this was, this tryst. She thought about what her housemates would think or say, if they ever knew. She thought about what Harry would say, and of course how Ron would react. A twinge of guilt bloomed within her chest that developed into an actual ache when Malfoy’s mouth crept down to her neck and began to kiss her fervently just beneath her ear. Her hands were beyond her control then, grasping his wet hair and clutching him to her and tugging him back up to her mouth. His moan vibrated inside her and she wanted her mind to go completely blank, but it refused. 

Without warning, she pushed him away. She was blushing, feeling suddenly exposed and silly, standing practically naked in front of a boy who had humiliated her on numerous occasions. What on earth was she doing? Yes, Ron was snogging Lavender whenever she happened to see them. And yes, she was able to date, or snog, whomever she chose, even the most unlikely character imaginable, who was, despite her distraction, still lightly clinging to her elbows. Malfoy was patiently waiting as she tried to clear her head.

He lightly cupped her cheek, the heated skin there warming his hand up instantly. His heart quivered when she leaned into his palm and closed her eyes. A second later, she squeezed them tighter and he could imagine why. Slowly, worried she would reject him, he lowered his head to kiss her, keeping his eyes on her face for any sign. He barely touched his lips against hers, a chaste kiss that seemed to last for several minutes, until finally she kissed him back. He licked the seam of her mouth and she willingly opened up to his tongue. Her fingers dug into his arms, tugging him to her body, and he wrapped himself around her. The towel on her head came loose and all her sweet smelling curls tumbled down, tickling his arms. Granger moaned and he clutched her closer, her breasts pressed against his chest so closely, he could feel her racing heart. 

Draco widened his stance, directed Granger over his thigh, and clutched her closer still. Their kiss broke momentarily from the awkwardness, but he quickly returned. His splayed hands on her back began to drift downward, cupping her bum through the robe and pressing her tightly onto his leg, feeling her heat there. She gasped and he felt it all the way into his cock. Then he could only stare at her and wonder if he had ever seen a more beautiful girl, with her gasping mouth and her wild, wet hair all around her.

The blood roared through her body at the feel of his strong grip on her bum, and she felt lightheaded. Malfoy moved from her mouth and started sucking on her neck with such force that she moaned loudly again. Beneath her robe, her skin tingled everywhere they were touching. She most certainly didn’t expect _this_ from the potion! _Oh, God…the potion!_

“Whoa, oh, oh,” she cried out as she struggled way from his clutching arms. Frantically she backed away, covering her mouth with one hand and staring at a rather disheveled Malfoy. Had she done that to him? His hair was no longer damp but sticking up in odd places, and his mouth was rather red and swollen, but more importantly, he was obviously aroused. “We can’t do this,” she moaned.

“Why not?” he demanded, his voice husky, sending shivers through her. He took a step in her direction and she countered it, keeping a safe distance from his groping hands. After a moment, he conceded and waited for her to explain.

Hermione thought she would start crying, which was absolutely ridiculous. What was there to cry about? It was only Malfoy. Malfoy and his wonderful mouth that was so deliciously wicked, and his big, strong hands that sent tingles inside and out. But it was all wrong, so very, very wrong. Why didn’t he understand that? 

“None of this is real. It’s,” she stumbled over her words. “It’s the potion. In the lab, I was … I was brewing a love potion. Well, not,” she quickly spoke up, “Not _exactly_ a love potion. More of an a-attraction … potion. To get…someone in particular to … notice me,” she muttered at the end. Her face was aflame and all she wanted now was to escape to her dorm. Hermione glanced down at herself, unable to face his response, and noticed how gaping her robe was. Hastily she tugged on the belt and tightened it back up, covering her brassiere-clad breasts that had been peeking out through the slit.

“I know. I knew what was in the cauldron,” he said quietly, tapping his head. “Whatever happened to your potion that spoiled it,” she noticed how easily he denied any responsibility and frowned. “Caused all the trouble we’ve had tonight, and I knew everything you were thinking because of it, up until we washed up. I _knew_! Except…”

He paused, searching for the right way to say this. “Why go to all the trouble over someone like Weasley? He’s beneath you…”

“Ha! Oh, please! You think I’m scum! You think -”

“What? No, well maybe, before, but now -”

“… nothing but a _Mudblood_ -”

“I haven’t called you that – I don’t _think_ like that any -”

“You’ve no need to excuse any of this, Malfoy. It was just a side effect. Let’s forget any of this happened -”

“No,” he shouted over her. “No, I don’t think so, Granger. This, what just happened, had nothing whatsoever to do with that fucking potion. Look at us!” He flung his arms out towards her, his voice booming throughout the bathroom. Hermione noticed that the mermaid was watching in utter fascination and flushed, realizing everything she’d already witnessed. “Do you see any purple shit on either of us?”

He was right; the potion was gone completely. _But then, that would mean…?_ Her eyes met his, which were stormy and determined as he walked up to her and cupped her chin in his hand. She couldn’t look away from him. 

“My interest in you has nothing to do with that botched potion but everything -”

His voice broke off and he looked away from her, his hand dropping as well. Hermione waited for him to continue with inhuman patience. “Look,” he said at last. “I don’t know how to go about this, all right? You’re not like other girls, Hermione.”

She knew that. She didn’t need him to reiterate just how different, how plain she was. There was no need for him to throw it in her face, now of all times. Hermione tugged her robe tighter about, the blood rushing in her ears making it difficult to listen as he continued.

“You’re different from any other girl I’ve… you’re beautiful and smart and… and you’re nothing like the pure-blood witches I’ve been with.”

“Oh, so it’s my _heritage_ , not my body that repulses -”

“For Merlin’s sake, woman, let me finish!” he screamed over her. They were both silent for a long time and then he carried on in a lower tone. “For me,” he whispered, bouncing back and forth between both her eyes, “It wasn’t the potion that made me want you like this, Hermione. It started long before tonight. Don’t tell me it was otherwise for you.”

She stared back at him, completely gobsmacked. Had Malfoy really just admitted he’d been attracted to her for some time, or was she deluding herself? A strange fluttering began in her tummy. Hermione knew she ought to walk away, to listen to those second thoughts she’d had about giving in to him, but she couldn’t help but consider his argument. 

When she didn’t reply, Malfoy took the opportunity to explore her body. His right hand cupped her hip and pulled her towards him while his left wrapped around her back. She gave him a shy smile, feeling quite ridiculous all of a sudden, and he smirked at her before slowly bending to kiss her mouth. She accepted him. He backed her up against the wall, his left hand trailing up to cup the back of her head against the rough stone. Granger’s fingers began tugging at his robe, prying it open little by little, and then suddenly jerked it wide open. 

He laughed. She ducked her head away from his, moving down towards his exposed skin. Her mouth clamped down on his clavicle and started sucking. Draco gasped. He wanted to taste her. Carefully, Draco eased her down to the stone floor. He yanked off his robe and bundled it beneath her head, all the while staring into her large brown eyes, anxious yet aroused.

Slowly he opened her robe, exposing her white laced brassier again, which he traced with the tip of his finger lightly along the edge. Her breasts rose and fell quickly and he desperately wanted to see them fully. Seeming to understand, Granger rose up on her elbows, displacing Draco, to unfasten it from behind. When it was off, he stared openly at them, mesmerized before leaning down to capture one taut nipple in his mouth. Granger moaned and clutched his head against her. Together they lay back down and Draco draped himself across her, nudging her thighs apart to make more room for him. It felt wonderful to lay the cradle of her thighs.

She still wasn’t exactly sure she ought to be doing this, with Draco Malfoy, no less, yet it felt _good_. Hermione lay beneath him, his warm weight pressing her down was very reassuring and exciting, and she gasped as he licked and suckled on her breasts. Oh, what had she gotten herself into? Her fingers scratched at his back, digging in every time he tugged on her nipples. Malfoy released her taut skin and kissed his way down her trembling belly and her nerves bubbled up out of her. “Wait.”

Draco stop licking around her belly button to look up at her. “It’s all right, Hermione,” he whispered. Draco lifted his left hand up to hold her right hand, and she squeezed it tightly. “Let me,” he said just before he kissed her again, breaking eye contact as he nipped at the waistband of her knickers. The tension in her body made her thighs and hands quiver, and as he lowered her underwear, the scent of her arousal spurred him further down. Draco rubbed his cheek against the softness of her thigh, his nose brushing against her damp curls. She squeezed his hand and he smiled before leaning in to taste her.

***

A short while later, as the sun crept over Hogwarts and all its sleeping inhabitants, they emerged from the Prefects’ bathroom rather ruffled and unkempt yet smiling. Malfoy was holding her hand in his and wouldn’t let her more than a step away from him as they made their way back towards the moving staircase, kissing nearly the entire time. As they said goodnight for the last time and broke away from another lingering kiss, Hermione gasped.

“Oh, no! How am I going to clean up the Potions lab?”

Malfoy gave her a wolfish grin. “Granger, that’s what House Elves are for, after all.” She smacked his arm and he pulled her up for one more kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work of fiction is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.
> 
> Story Notes: I want to especially thank McCargi, beta extraordinaire. Inspired by a prompt at the The Harry Potter Valentine's Day Het Fic & Art Exchange: Prompt 107: A potions accident/spell gone awry/screwy magical occurrence of your choice bonds Character A and Character B together. They can't go a few feet away from each other without becoming ill, and as the "bond" progresses, they can start to sense each other's feelings/thoughts. As they struggle to find a solution and break the bond, Character A's true feelings for Character B are discovered.
> 
> Beta(s): McCargi


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